The days

The old man

I step out of the bus and embarked on the familiar route home. Exiting the air-conditioned environment of the bus made me realise how hot the afternoon was. The old man, stood resting against a bike, His ebony black skin glistening with sweat.

As i walked towards him, I observed him. His eyes turned and fixed on me. I knew he was gonna make a move, its just a matter of time. He stopped me and spoke in fine english "excuse me do you speak english" I thought i should just say "no" to him in mandarin, but i said "yeah" instead. He explained how he was trying to take a bus to woodlands and I told him how there is no bus and that he need to take a train. He looked suspicious as i continued to stare at him. Maybe there really is a bus. Two bucks, not too much to ask for, but his reason is not quite worth it. "I had no change" I gave him an excuse. He said he would follow me to a shop nearby to change. To hell with it, he was polite anyway, so I took out my wallet and dug out some coins. He said thank you a couple of times "don't know whether you are a christian but god bless you".
Damn, whats with me why did I give in anyway. "I don't believe in giving or receiving help" wasn't that the way to go.

I remember that good things happen to those who do good deeds. It better be. Something good better befall me. What puzzles me is, have I really changed that much?

---

It happened on a cold and dark winter night. Zen was walking around town. No one knows what deed he has in those dark alleys. "Hold me..." someone cried. Zen turned towards the old beggar. An old rugged face, all cuddled up in a torn and dirty piece of blanket. "Hold me" he cried again. Zen bent down and took a long hard look at the man. He was coughing rather badly and mucus was dripping off his nose. Zen noticed a syringe lying on the floor "A drug addict hmmf poor old man" There was nothing but silence between the refined young man and the poor beggar. His lips moved. Zen expected it, "heeelp me" he muttered in a half dead tone. He picked up the syringe and pulled the pistoned. "You are already a dead man" he said as he poked the needle up the old man's artery. "Thank you...", the old soul seemed relieved as zen pumped the deadly dose of air into him.

I wonder, what's he doing. Did zen went to look for him intentionally? What is this, mercy killing? Or just a cruel and sick act?

posted by zente @ 5:44 AM